A Song of Shadows and Light: The Game Begins
by The MZ-FIT G-MR'S Productions
Summary: It is the year 450 AC. Over a hundred years since Daenerys Targaryen retook the Iron Throne. The Seven Kingdom's is now ruled by Elon Ember of house Ember and he rules as a proper king. But now old legends make themselves real as war begins to loom. The Game of Thrones has begun yet again, and only time will tell of what will happen. (ON HIATUS)
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"Gods it's cold," Boros shivered as he trudged through the courtyard of Castle Black. New recruits were practicing their swordplay and taking aim at barrels with crossbows. His chin tickled from the winds blowing through his beard, causing him to scratch it every now and then.

"Yes, as you kept saying the last hundred fucking times," his companion stated as they near the gate. "We're in the North, it's always cold. You'd think with that fat you'd be sweating like a pig."

"Forgive me for wanting a bit of summer air!" Boros snapped, adjusting his cloak. "I'd think you of all people would enjoy that, Matrel."

Matrel was a tall, lanky fellow with a mop of brown hair. Due to his size, he had to duck every time he entered a doorway.

Matrel scoffed, "I would love nothing more than a day of summer, but I wouldn't bitch about it every single day."

Boros glared at Matrel and would have retorted, but he just turned away with a huff.

"Be glad we have clothes on our backs to keep us warm," another night brother said as he walked up, guiding two horses from the stable. "Now shut up the both of you," he demanded, handing the reins over to the both of them. "Commander Felio needs us to investigate a reported skirmish near the Wall." The night brother had red and black hair and a small, trimmed beard.

"Do we have to bring him?" Matrel asked, gesturing towards Boros, who glared back. "He might attract whatever's out there with his constant bitching."

"With Qhorin sick, Boros is the only one available," the night brother responded. "Now shut up and let's head out."

* * *

Boros shivered as the wind hit him from all directions, causing him to adjust his cloak every so often.

"What exactly are we supposed to be looking for, Prent?" He asked as reached the edge of the forest. "Direwolves, Wildlings, anything?"

"It doesn't matter what we're looking for," Prent replied without sparing Boros a glance. "Our orders are to find our target, and deal with it. And don't use the term 'Wildlings!" He snapped, "that name isn't well liked beyond the Wall."

"Why can't we say that again?" Boros questioned, earning a sigh from Prent and a snicker from Matrel.

"Over a hundred years ago, the 998th Lord Commander let thousands of 'Free Folk' through the Wall, in order to gain their aid against the Others," Prent responded. "He gave the Wildlings their own lands to farm and promised them that they would treated well. After this, a new rule was set for the Night's Watch to refer to them as 'Free Folk.'

"But, then why is it forbidden to say it beyond the Wall?" Boros replied.

"A few years after the Others were defeated, some of the 'Free Folk' had believed they were forgetting their 'old ways' as they put it. So, off they went, pillaging villages. Eventually they were captured, and thrown back through the Wall."

At this point, the three of them had reached the outline of the woods, and were making their way through.

"The rest of the "Free Folk" nearly received the same fate," Matrel added. "Lucky for them, Queen Daenerys was a gentle soul."

"So the ones, beyond the Wall, are the descendents of the pillagers?"

"You're a bright one, aren't you?" Matrel responded with a roll of his eyes.

"Shut up! The both of you!" Prent yelled, his horse coming to a stop. "We're here."

Prent got off of his horse with Boros and Matrel following him, tying their horses to trees before moving on. Boros found it difficult moving through the trees, branches snagged onto his cloak and roots hidden in the snow nearly tripped him. He paused when he heard someone whisper.

"Did you say something?" He asked, turning to Matrel.

"No?"

"I could've sworn I heard whispering," Boros stated as he looked around.

"First, you complain about the weather, now you're hearing voices. Is there no end to you?" Matrel exclaimed, picking up his pace.

Boros sent a glare before hurrying after him. The three continued on before Parent held up his hand, signaling them to stop.

"What is it?" Matrel asked as Prent bent down to examine something.

"Blood," Prent replied, as he began to softly dig through the snow before holding something up. "Some kind of cloth, we're close."

The continued onward shortly before coming to another stop. As Prent searched the snow, another whisper caught Boros' attention, making him even more anxious.

"What's got you all jittery?" Matrel questioned. Before Boros could respond, Prent beat him to it.

"The trail ends here," Prent announced as he observed the ground.

"Looks like this has been a wild goose chase," Matrel remarked

"Maybe, maybe not," Prent replied as he stood up. "Matrel, head back to the horses and keep an eye on them. Boros you're with me."

"Me?"

"Him?!"

"Yes. Now get back to the horses, that's an order."

Boros watched as Matrel tried to come up with a response but the latter just sent a glare towards the former before storming away. Shortly afterwards, another whisper startled Boros, causing him to reach for his sword.

"Maybe we should turn back Prent," he urged. "Something doesn't fe-"

"You're scared of everything aren't you? We continue on," Prent responded, continuing on. Turning to look in the direction Matrel stormed off before following Prent.

Fear began to gnaw at Boros as the whispers grew louder. Every so often he heard the sound of footsteps, causing him to look left and right at the trees around him. A few moments later, the whispers volume increased, something Boros could stand no longer.

"Prent w-," due to his attention being elsewhere, Boros was cut off when he bumped into something. Shaking off the confusion, he saw that it was Prent, standing perfectly still as if in a trance.

"Prent?" Boros questioned, looking at his companion in wonder. "What is it?" He followed Prent's gaze, "what's wr-"

Several feet in front of them, several bodies, presumably Free Folk, laid before them. Mutilated in ways Boros had never seen before. Some skinned down to the bone, others bent in ways that didn't seem physically possible. Puncture wounds from what looked like a variety of weapons littered nearly all of them. Some throats were slits, others torsos were disemboweled, one's head was split right down the middle.

Boros was broken out of his stare by the whispers, which at this point sounded more like screams. He could only grab a tree for support as he lost his lunch. Looking at Prent, Boros could see the man's face had become ghostly pale as he continued to stare at the bodies. Having seen enough for one day, Boros grabbed Prent's shoulder, breaking the man's gaze.

"We should turn back," was all he said.

Prent still hadn't gotten over the sight of the massacre so he could only nod in response. As the two doubled back, a scream ripped through the air.

"Matrel?" Prent suddenly asked, drawing sword and rushing towards the direction the scream came from.

"Wait for me!" Boros cried as he tried to catch up, the whispers growing louder and louder as he kept running. Boros struggled to ignore them as he tried to keep Prent in his sight but ended up being tripped by a root.

He swiftly got up and looked around for Parent, but could see any sight of him. Boros was terrified, this was first time beyond the Wall, so without Prent or Matrel, he was lost. As he contemplated on what to do, he began to realise that the whispers has stopped.

He listened for any, but none came, relief flowed through him, that is until he felt someone watching him from above.

Hesitantly looking up, he was shocked to see shadow-like creature staring down at him as it hovered several feet away and in the air. He was spellbound as he stared at it, the creature was bipedal in appearance but lacked any physical features.

Despite it's menacing look, he could help but be intrigued by it, as it had a sort of eerie calmness that made him feel strangely relaxed, but that immediately changed when the creature looked and flew right at him.

He tried to run, but his leg became tangled in a root, he let out a cried of pain as he once again fell to the ground. He held his arms over his head, closed his eyes and awaited the blow. Only it never came.

Instead he heard a familiar voice cry out in pain. Turning to one side he saw Prent's body a few feet away, bloody pouring from the deep gash in his chest. The creature was nowhere in sight, so Boros tried to stand, but his leg made it difficult. As he looked around for the direction the Wall might be, he heard shuffling behind him.

Looking over his shoulder, he was horrified to see Prent standing up on his own, only this thing was Prent. His skin was turning a pale gray as eyes became completely black, and his mouth was contorted into a grin.

Boros began to limp as the thing that was once Prent shuffled after him, clumsily bumping into trees. Boros used the trees and steady himself and it worked very well, but he quickly heard the sounds of several more footsteps, and with a quick glance he saw the belonged to the broken corpses from earlier.

Scared for his life, Boros began pick up the pace, that is until something grabbed his leg.

He didn't even hear himself scream.

* * *

 **I decided to redo this chapter and add some more detail, which I'm doing for the rest of these chapters.**

 **I'm working on Green Vs. Yellow and Mortal Kombat as well as Tron.**

 **I'm also working on a creepypasta fanfic set in the same universe as "I Eat Pasta For Breakfast" with permission from Chibi-Works.**

 **Until then, this is the EZ-GMR, logging out.**


	2. Corlen I

**Corlen I**

"Corlen!"

The young prince of Westeros smiled as he looked up from his sketchbook. His youngest sister was running up to him, her hair flying in the breeze. Behind her, his youngest brother was not far behind. It was early in the morning but the two were full of energy, so much that they dragged their elder brother from bed down to the royal gardens. Off to the side guards kept watchful eyes on them.

"Look what I found!" She exclaimed holding out her hand.

Reaching out, Corlen plucked a small, wed shaped black object.

"An obsidian arrowhead. A rare find Shireen," his sister smiled at the compliment. "Almost none of them left. where did you find it?"

"In the nearby pond."

"Could it be from the war against the dead?" His younger brother asked.

"It could be Finis." Corlen held the object to the sun. "Most obsidian weapons were lost when the war ended, either stolen or forgotten. Though many were kept by houses in the north and south."

He handed it back to them as they bickered over who it could've belonged too, with Corlen observing in silence.

Like Corlen, Shireen had her fathers yellow eyes and ruby hair; a trait common among those born of House Ember. She was mischievous for a girl of six. Despite the teachings of Septa Gaywer, she always found a way to cause trouble. Sneaking off to watch soldiers spar, knitting up a little trap for the Septa, or starting a food fight with her brothers during dinner. Despite all of that, she was skilled at knitting, and she enjoyed drawing lessons with Corlen.

Finis was two years her elder. While he shared his siblings ruby hair, he had his Mother's blue eyes. He was fascinated by stories about mythical creatures, especially the Others. Stories like those were what inspired him to want to become a knight. Though their mother made it clear to their caretakers that those stories were never to be read, Corlen's younger siblings always looked to him with expectation and eagerness.

"My Prince." Corlen turned to see a guard approach and bow. "Your mother requests the presence of you and your siblings in the dining hall."

The prince nodded as he stood, collecting his sketchbook. With his siblings in tow he left the garden, the guard following.

A warm, cheerful meal was laid out, the scent of bacon filled Corlen's nostrils. Seated at the table was his mother and elder siblings, talking and eating.

"Good morning mother," he greeted as he sat down beside his older brother. "Beloved brother."

His brother Jevros smirked, "don't tell me you've forgotten my name."

Unlike his younger siblings Jevros was a spitting image of his mother. Blue eyes, orange hair, high cheek bones; all traits of house Tylios. He and Corlen always enjoyed hunting with their father. They also trained together as well, both exceeding in swordplay.

Taking a bite from an apple, Corlen grinned wolfishly at his brother. "Why Jevros, you wound me."

Their sister Lyanna smirked as well. "But it seems you've forgotten me little brother."

Corlen laughed. "Forgive me dear sister." He feigned a guilty look. "How could I be foolish to forget a beauty like you."

Swallowing a piece of fish, Lyanna laughed. "You should work on work on your comebacks little brother, you're getting repetitive."

Shrugging, Corlen returned to his meal.

Like Jevros, Lyanna greatly resembled her mother, sharing her orange hair, but her fathers eyes. Elon once commented to her that she was a perfect image of her mother in her youth.

Like Shireen she was raised to be a lady. While Corlen found it annoying whenever she would correct her siblings whenever they did something she disagreed with, he knew she was still the same person from before. Especially since she loved to ride horses.

"Corlen," his mother called gaining his attention. She smiled sweetly at him, "could explain why you and your younger siblings were absent from your rooms?"

Corlen felt sweat trickle down his neck as Shireen and Finis exchanged nervous glances. Their mother was a caring mother, but her House's symbol was a horned snake, and those who anger the snake shall; _"Feel the Bite."_

While his siblings were usually the ones to get themselves in trouble, he would be the one to face his mother when she found out.

"Well, I..." The door to the dining room opened as the king stepped through. Letting out a sigh of relief Corlen turned to his mother, "we were in the garden playing."

Corlen knew that wasn't the answer his mother wanted but she could only nod in acceptance before giving him a silent warning that they would continue this talk later.

"Figure my lateness," the king said as he sat down. "Lord Gregor called for a meeting of the Small Council."

"What could've so important that it had to be dealt so early?" The queen asked.

"There have been talks about a new religion expanding throughout the Seven Kingdoms."

"What kind of religion?" Lyanna asked.

"Supposedly, they're demon worshippers," his father answered as he took a sip of wine.

"Demon?" The queen was surprised. "Elon shouldn't you-"

"They are merely a group of fanatics Valyra," Elon countered, cutting into his fish. "They pose no threat in any way."

Valyra looked like she wanted to argue but decided not to.

Corlen watched silently, his mouth full of bacon. He knew better then to get involved when in father and mother spoke, yet he could not help but feel that his father should investigate the worshippers.

He shook off those thoughts, he had a full day ahead of him. He promised to take his younger siblings on another walk through King's Landing. When there mother wasn't looking away of course.

He also had training with Jevros, and he never missed a chance for another round.

* * *

 **And he's Corlen I, redone.**

 **Hoped you enjoyed reading.**

 **This is the EZ-GMR,**

 **logging out.**


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